where we go
by fiesa
Summary: He can see in her eyes that she remembers. OneShot- Peeta, Katniss and a train going nowhere.


**Where we go**

_Summary: He can see in her eyes that she remembers. OneShot- Peeta, Katniss and a train going nowhere._

_Warning: Drabble. _

_Set: On the train-ride to the Capitol._

_Disclaimer: Standards apply. _

* * *

Peeta knows his chances for survival are barely nonexistent.

Born in a family of many boys, of which he is the youngest, he always strove hard to reach what few of his brothers cared for, for the simplest reason of all: because they do not need it. The eldest son inherits the bakery, the second-eldest some money and a life-long job in the shop. The third, traditionally, is given some valuables to sell in order to fend for himself. And the fourth – or the fifth or sixth, depending – is left with little more than nothing. He can always leave District Twelve – but where to go then? Or he can do what every man in the district does who does not have a proper business – can do what every man in the Seam does: He can work in the Coal Mines.

Though his future has not had the brightest shine before, Peeta always tried hard to work for something more than just the simple fate that was usual in his district. He is clever. It is something he is and his brothers are not. School was easy for him, even in the shortened, selected lesson structures the Capitol thought mandatory. And he has used every free second he got to learn more about the world. Through watching, but mostly by listening. Strangers always pass by the bakery when they come into the District. They mostly are officials, bureaucrats who want to check on the mines and the coal quota and quality. Sometimes, workers from the coal transports get a bite of food before heading out on their now-loaded trains again. And all kinds of people meet in the shop – house-wives and coal miners and the old blacksmith and many others. And Peeta has always listened – from behind the counter, hidden in the shadows, or from the corner of the door where he kept watch on the bread in the oven. That way, he has learned a lot. And nothing, he now realizes, because the world is so much bigger than what he knows from District Twelve. The fact that he was stunned wordless when he entered the train proves that much.

Little wonder.

All this plush and silver and crystal is too much luxury, too much light – too much everything. He finds himself longing for the simple, plain wood of his home's living-room, of the dark stones of the huge oven, of the light of the gas lamp in the kitchen. As the initial surprise fades, he is disgusted by the obvious display of wealth and luxury on the train that carries the tributes towards the Capitol.

Peeta did not cry.

Not in front of his mother, not in front of his brothers. All of them came to see him off and he has endured their open favoritism towards Katniss and their guilty and relieved looks. _Not me. Not us. Just Peeta._ Because he is the youngest. There is no harm in losing a son who wouldn't have taken over the business anyway, no harm in losing a brother who has no use to them. Peeta is too much of everything, too: Too smart, too quiet, too soft. Not a fighter, not a winner. _District Twelve might actually have a chance of winning this year. _Yes it has but it won't be Peeta and he knows it as well as his family does.

Only saying good bye to his father was hard. They are alike, somehow, and yet bad with words when it comes to expressing feelings towards each other. Peeta remembers his father used to carry him around on his shoulders when they went to the vendors who sold them wheat and grain in the past, when Mother and the brothers remained home to sell and work. Those strong hands held his when he went to school for the first time. Those eyes had shone with a light barely visible and yet there as they pointed out the girl Peeta would fall in love with.

And Katniss sits next to him, in that horribly soft arm chair, her hair braided and yet in disorder. In her blue dress that compliments her grey eyes. Her fists are buried in her lap.

She sits up straight. Nothing in her posture shows the fear he knows she must be feeling – but then, perhaps she is just frozen, the same way he is. She volunteered for her sister. He knows how much she loves the little girl – he saw it in her eyes when the cameras zoomed in on her as she ran forward to volunteer, heard it in her voice when she cried out her offer. He can see it even now, in the way her shoulders are squared and the lines of her face are hard. Peeta is not the eldest son and as such has little to offer. But he is smart.

And he sees things.

Effie leaves them and they sit in the train wagon loaded with crystal, silver ware, plush and velvet and Peeta knows there is nothing to say even though he wishes there was. Where they are going they will be enemies. They have been thrown together by the Capitol but there is nothing they have in common. They don't even have a mutual goal. There is no way both of them are going to make it out alive of the games, not even a small chance one of them will survive. But if someone will, it is Katniss. Peeta, with every little piece of the hope he has left, hopes she will make it. He watches her features: her expressive face, the line of her nose, her grey eyes, the hair braided so beautifully he wishes he could see her in a dress even more beautiful and with a smile on her face. She stares off into the distance beyond the train walls and barely moves. And then she turns her head and he can see it. It is there, in her eyes, and Peeta sees it clearly.

She remembers him.

A far, distant memory sparks between the two of them. A memory of a dark evening, a day so cold he shivers when he looks through the window into the winter afternoon. A girl and a boy who met before but never talked. They have nothing in common, absolutely nothing. _That's the girl_. His father's voice replays in Peeta's memory as he watches her – her blue dress and her grey eyes and the memory of a snowy night far away mirrored in them. She is beautiful. There are many girls in school and some of them have striking features, most of them are pretty in one way or another. But Peeta never looked at another girl since he saw Katniss and he doesn't think he ever will. Not in the place they are going now. Not any time ever.

Katniss breaks eye contact with him first.

The train rushes on, barely noticeable in its speed, and Peeta closes his eyes for a second and wills himself to be strong. The girl he loves is next to him and yet so far away. And Peeta – little Peeta, the youngest son of the baker, Peeta-the-useless, Peeta-the-annoying, Peeta-the-dreamer – knows he will fight. If not for his survival, then at least for hers. _I'll take care of her sister. You take care of her._

Peeta thinks he can do that.


End file.
